Mirror Image
by Strawberry-Slayer
Summary: Based off of "Butterflied", then tweaked to my own liking. Sara fans beware, I've replaced her with my own OC. Sorry, Sara's my fave on the show, but as this is my first CSI fic, I didn't feel comfortable writing her yet.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Right, so this is my first CSI story ever. And I'm a tad bit nervous. Mostly because, see, BTVS is no prob to write. Been watching the show a long time, easy stuff to pick up, and what you don't know, you make up and claim as lore/legend/whatever. CSI has tricky stuff. Been watching for a while now, yes, but not nearly as familiar with the characters, so it will be hard to write everyone else. I still haven't graduated into writing my BTVS fics from any of the real characters POVs. On that note, I will be bringing over one of my own OCs, a Slayer in the Buffyverse, Tia Catherine Quinn. Over here, though, she will have no supernatural powers, no witchiness or slayeryness. Going to be hard enough to just list the required credentials for CSI work. Two years of fieldwork after college, one year in New Orleans, college at Tulane. Her second year had been in Las Vegas, training under Grissom and the gang. So, to Jerry Bruckheimer - whom I adore for the Lethal Weapons and POTC, to name a few , I do sincerely apologize for any disservice I do to you and Gil Grissom, Sara Sidle, Catherine Willows, Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown, Greg Sanders, Hodges, Jim Brass, Ronnie, Jacqui, and the many other parts/roles on CSI. Thanks for letting me borrow them and play for a bit! Oh, and the episode this past season where the vic was a Sara-ringer, "Butterflied"? Never happened, cuz I'm kind of stealing that idea, only it's going to be Tia. And this is assuming some flirting between Tia and Gris has already occurred, much to Greg's chagrin. Not to mention between Tia and Nick, much to Grissom's disliking. Sorry to Jorja Fox, whom I adore and whom I am so glad is back on CSI, so totally glad, but I am writing Sara out of this story. Not including her at all.

* * *

A rainy afternoon in Las Vegas, one of very few we see here. Over a year of living in this dry heat and I still wasn't used to it, compared with New Orleans' humidity. How I missed thunderstorms. I pulled my hood over my head and stepped out of my car, hoisted my bag over my shoulder and ran inside the building.

"Tia," Nick Stokes.

"Hey, Nick. What's up?" I greeted, peeling off my jacket. I shook my long blonde hair out.

"Nothing much, just dying to hear about your weekend?" he said, going to the coffee maker and pouring himself a cup. "You want?"

I shook my head.

"No, thank you. I'm good with a cherry Coke," I replied, retrieving a bottle from the vending machine. "As for the weekend, the usual. You know, work my second job as a showgirl." I winked at him.

"I didn't hear that," Grissom said as he entered the break room. I felt my face heating up. Great, making such a remark when Grissom walked in. And then blushing. Fortunately, no one else knew of my little crush. And I'd managed to keep it hidden for quite some time. Even back in New Orleans, when he had done a stint teaching some forensic science seminars. That was how I first met him. Then Brass, Grissom's superior, ran across my resume and invited me to work in the Vegas CSI department, the best crime lab in the country.

"So what's on the doing for today, Gris?" Catherine said. I broke out of my reverie. She must have come in while I was in La-la Land. Warrick was seated next to her.

"I need Warrick and Nick to finish the paperwork on the Davis case. Catherine, you get acquainted with our little arsonist friend. Tia, you're with me. New case at Desert Pines High School."

Everyone split up, leaving me standing with Grissom. Great.

"So what's the sitch at the high school?" I asked.

Grissom gave me a blank stare for a moment, then shook his head with an amused look.

"Sometimes you speak another language, Quinn." he chuckled. "Come on, I'll explain on the ride over. Grab your kit." We loaded everything into the van and headed over. Grissom's cell rang as he turned onto the road, and that kept him occupied for the ride. Once again, I had no clue what this one was about. He parked in the school lot and shut the motor off. The cops on-scene escorted us to a pair of doors on the side of the immense high school building.

"School opened these doors for us. Easier than traipsing through the rest of the building to get to the room. Usually they stay locked," Brass explained, meeting us on the sidewalk.

"They were locked all day?" Grissom wondered. Brass nodded.

"Doesn't make any difference. Students are in and out of the band room all the time."

"Band student?" I asked.

Brass nodded.

"Senior. Played the French horn," he replied. I surveyed the room as Brass answered.

"Wow. This scene is disgusting," I commented. My nose wrinkled.

A couple of officers stood at the back of a large room. Through a door to my right I could see a half-circled tier of chairs and a crowd of music stands. We were in the band locker room apparently, where the instruments were stored. Clothing littered the ground, along with textbooks, notebooks, candy wrappers, pencils, erasers, sheets of music, a couple of tennis shoes, and various other junk. One of the shoes was still on its owner. The vic lay halfway under a large shelf supporting a tuba case. She wore a pair of black dance pants and a pink tank top.

"I've called in Greg and Nick as well. They should be here anytime. This scene is going to take all of you to sort through the mess," Brass said, walking outside. I snapped some pictures of the immediate area.

Grissom knelt next to the dead girl. Greg and Nick appeared at my side and watched as he moved the papers away. He turned her head slightly sideways and shone a flashlight on the girl's face. Grissom started and Nick let out a low whistle.

"What? What is it?" I asked, peering around the other CSIs and trying to position myself to see the face. When I did, the blood rushed out of my head and I felt faint.

"You got a twin you've never mentioned?" Nick said.

"I, uh, oh, wow," I replied in shock.

"Grissom, who is the vic?" Nick asked. Grissom didn't answer. Instead, the head of the graveyard shift was staring straight at me. "Grissom?"

"Heather Masterson," Greg answered. He produced the girl's school ID and driver's license from a nearby wallet.

"Heather," I said softly. I took in her blonde hair and blue eyes, so like mine, and yet so different. Suddenly, Grissom stood.

"Greg, Nick, spread out and start collecting evidence. Tia...come with me." Grissom spoke in a tone that invited no argument, so I followed. We stopped just outside the band doors.

"Shouldn't these kids be in rehearsal? For marching band? Because, it's, like, summer," I babbled nervously. Heather played French horn. I had a cousin, Jasmine, who played flute. She was in marching band and concert band. Lived in Indiana. Since she'd started high school, Jasmine was all about band. Heck, even I had been in band in junior and senior high school. I'd played French horn. Which made this situation even more weird.

"Tia," Grissom said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sending you back to CSI. I want you to work with Catherine."

"I thought Brass said he needed all of us here."

"I'm quite sure he would agree. You and Warrick can switch."

"Tough. I'm staying on this case." I turned to walk back inside.

"Tia," I stopped, but didn't look back. "I believe this will be a conflict of interests."

I faced him. "I don't. The vic looks like me. So what? She's in high school, I'm not. I highly doubt the murder has anything to do with me. In fact, it would be in her best interest if I stayed. Why? Because I am definitely working my hardest to solve this case. And I'd just like to see you even try and keep me off it."

Grissom narrowed his eyes. "Tia, please, don't make me pull rank."

I continued glaring stubbornly at him.

"Fine. You can catch a ride back to CSI with Brass. Go on," Grissom instructed, his voice hard. "You can work with Catherine today."

"After that?" I replied, an edge to my voice as well now.

"We'll see." His eyes glinted. I wanted to cry. Instead, I glared back, tossed my head, and followed Brass to the parking lot. I was angry. Very angry. Taken off a case just because the victim happened to look like me. What did that have to do with anything? The entire ride back to work, I seethed silently. Brass tried to make conversation, but sensing my mood, he gave up.


	2. Chapter 2

I waited around after my shift, hoping Grissom would show soon. So far, Nick and Greg had returned. Catherine entered the break room.

"You still haven't gone home yet?" she asked. I shook my head. "Any specific reason why?"

I gave her a look.

"I'd think it'd be pretty obvious," I snapped. Catherine's brow creased. I sighed. "Sorry. I shouldn't take my anger out on you."

"Don't worry about it." Catherine waved her hand. "Grissom should be back any time. You worried?"

"Hardly," I snorted.

"I'd advise against jumping down his throat, Tia. He's not apt to reconsider his decision to take you off the Masterson case."

"Do I really care at this point?" I made a face. "It's a huge case. I can so handle it."

"Of course you care, Tia," Catherine replied calmly. Total mom voice. A small smile played on her face. "That's why you're good at your job. And you care about Grissom, which is why you get so upset with him."

"I believe I can suss out my feelings for Grissom on my own, thank you," I interjected sourly. I stood abruptly. Catherine watched me silently. Great. Gossip about Grissom and me now. Suddenly, the blonde grinned.

"Welcome back, Gris," she said, staring beyond me. I turned to see a haggard-looking Grissom. "I should get going. Tia wanted to talk with you, anyway."

"I " I stopped and glared at Catherine. She smiled innocently and stood. Before she or Grissom could speak, I tried again. "It wasn't anything important, Grissom."

"Are you sure?" he asked, sounding exhausted. I shot another glare at Catherine.

"Positive. Besides, what's to say that hasn't already been said? You are the boss, after all."

Catherine's face fell as she sensed the oncoming argument. Grissom merely sighed, having known this was coming.

"Tia," he began.

""Forget it, Grissom. I'll see you tonight, Cath. Thanks for the talk." I grabbed my bag and headed for home. As it turned out, now I was even more ticked off at Grissom and I knew I'd hear all about it at work the next evening.


	3. Chapter 3

After sleeping fitfully all day, weaving in and out of disturbing dreams, I finally gave up and went in to work early. Warrick and Greg were already there; Grissom was nowhere in sight.

"Hey, guys," I greeted, joining them in the lab. "What's going on with all this?"

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," Warrick replied.

"Sorry. How are you?" I remedied.

"Better now that you're here, Blondie," Nick answered, sweeping into the lab. He winked at me. I rolled my eyes.

"You get the autopsy report back?" Greg asked Nick, trying to ignore the blatant flirting.

"Right here." Nick held up a file.

""For the Masterson case?" I inquired eagerly, reaching for the file. Nick kept pulling it further away so that I had no choice but to lean against him to make a grab for the file.

"For the right price." He grinned. Nick was only messing with me. This was commonplace in our work relationship. Today, however, I was not in the mood.

"Oh, grow up, Stokes," I huffed. I flounced out of the lab. I heard Nick ask Warrick and Greg what my problem was. I heard Greg mutter something about me and Grissom and a big fight. I tried to shrug it off and continued to the locker room.

"Quinn! Wait up," Nick called after me. I stopped until he caught up. "Hey, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have -"

"Don't worry about it, Nick. Actually, I'm sorry. It seems all I'm doing lately is apologizing for jumping on people." I made a face.

"Hey, you can jump on me anytime, Tee," Nick quipped. I raised an eyebrow. "Oops, sorry, knee-jerk reaction. But, seriously, if I'd had to see my double dead at a crime scene within the past twenty-four hours, I'd be jumpy, too." Nick pulled me into a one-armed hug. "If you need to talk, I'm here. You know that, right, Tia?"

I gave him a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Nick. So how about we go talk about the Masterson report?"

* * *

I was still poring over the report, as well as various statements from other students, Heather's family, and the band staff two hours later. Catherine stuck her head in the room. I noticed but deliberately chose not to acknowledge her first. I wasn't really that upset with her. I just did not want to get into it about Grissom.

"Hey, Tia," Cath said softly. I looked up and smiled at her.

"Hi, Catherine. How are you? How's Lindsey doing?" I asked pleasantly. Catherine took the hint. She sat on the stool next to me.

"I'm good. And Lindsey is excited about eighth grade. One year closer to high school." Catherine shuddered. I grinned at her.

"Hey, with you as her mom, she'll be fine," I assured her. "We'll have to hang out together again."

"Oh, we will," Catherine responded. "Linds has already been talking about back-to-school shopping with you."

"Well, we'll have to plan for that," I said cheerfully. I became serious. "So why are you really in here?"

"Are you really, truly all right" Catherine studied me for a minute. "Tia, I realize you don't break down easily, but sometimes it's okay to break. Especially under the present circumstances."

"I'll admit, Cath, it was a shocker to see that girl's face." Truth was, as startling as that had been, the real surprise was witnessing Grissom's reaction. "And Grissom has been...difficult. But at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I am fine." That elicited a small grin from her. I really did like Catherine. She took me under her wing when I first came to Las Vegas. She did everything possible to help me get accustomed to a new place after living in the South my entire life.

"Well, if you get creeped out by all this, Tia, my place is always open," Catherine offered. "Besides, Lindsey looks up to you as a big sister. And I can't think of anyone better for that position." She hugged me. "But back to the other reason I came. Grissom wants to see you in his office." She shrugged apologetically. "Sorry."

"Not your fault, Cath. Be back in a bit, hopefully. I've got everything organized in my own little way, so feel free to look through it, but don't let Nick touch anything."

"Sure, no problem. Good luck."

I gave a tentative knock on the office door.

"Come in."

"Hey, Grissom. You wanted to see me?" I stepped nervously into his office. Grissom motioned for me to take a seat. I managed, with shaking legs. Inwardly, I cursed myself for being this uneasy, like a kid in the principal's office.

"Relax, Tia. You're not being fired." I guess Gris meant this to be soothing, but the way he tossed it out made me worry even more. My actions had come across as that insubordinate? Great.

"So...what am I here for then? Detention? Lines on the chalkboard?" I joked. First line of defense for Tia Quinn. Things get uncomfortable, turn to humor. Grissom gave a little grin.

"No. I just wanted to -"

"Gris, if you ask me if I'm okay, I think I may have to hurt you." He looked away quickly. "I'm touched that you're concerned. But, really, I wasn't the one killed. I'm still alive."

"Thank God," Grissom murmured. Did I hear that correctly?

"And I really would like to be involved on the Masterson case. At least talking with the students. I realize interacting with the family might be a little much for them, I mean, me looking like her, but...I really think I could be of use here, Grissom," I pleaded.

"I agree." he said simply. Whoa. Was he just giving in? Just like that? My eyes narrowed.

"What's the catch?"

"You work hand-in-hand with Nick, Greg, and I."

"Well, that's a given."

"You misunderstand. Any case work done, be it collecting statements, evidence, whatever, you will be with one of us."

"You're that worried, huh?" A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "Anything you want, Gris. You want me handcuffed to you, no problem."

"I doubt that will be necessary." Grissom flushed. His eyes glinted mischievously. "At least, not on a professional basis."

Now it was my turn to blush. And I did my best not to gape.

"Tomorrow, you and I can start talking more in depth to a few of the marching band students. Sound good?"

"Uh, great. Yeah, sure. Thanks, Grissom, for, uh, giving me a chance with you. I mean, to work on this case. With you and Nick and Greg. I, uh, I'll be in room two if you need me, with Catherine. She's helping me...uh, thanks." I backed out of the office, still taken aback.


	4. Chapter 4

"So," I said, seating myself next to the high schooler. I was back at CSI a day later, talking to band members, mainly the victim's immediate circle of friends. "Chantel Williams, right? I'm Tia Quinn, of Vegas CSI."

The redhead nodded. "Most people in band call me Scooter, though. Just one of those nicknames. Feel free to call me that."

"Thanks for the option, Ms. Williams, but I believe I'll stick to Chantel." I smiled at the 18-year-old. "So, you and Ms. Masterson were friends?" Chantel made a face.

"Used to be," she corrected. "She used to be really cool. But she got kind of boring and annoyed that I have a boyfriend and she doesn't. I mean, didn't." The teen sighed. "But she was whiny. I mean, Kyle isn't always around. And Heather always insisted on hanging out with one of the drum majors, Adam Nicholas. They were, like, joined at the hip. I mean, they dated for awhile last year, but they broke up because Heather was always flirting with another guy, Dave Miller. Which was so not surprising. Heather flirted with pretty much every guy in the band."

More questions led along the same lines. I got nothing else out of her. So I sent Chantel home. I hated questioning the band members during summer rehearsals. Word would get around quickly, with the teens being around each other every day. This being high school, I knew our investigation only fueled the rumor mill. For the next kid, I decided to call in Grissom to help me. As it turned out, Grissom must have been thinking along the same lines, because he appeared in the doorway a few seconds later.

"How's it going?"

I started at his voice. "Uh, okay, I think." I looked up at him and beckoned him in. "I hate dealing with high schoolers, though. These kids can be so cruel, and Lord only knows the gossip flying around." I flipped through my notes. "So far, two trumpets and a flute have told me that Heather flirted with anyone with a penis. I had two clarinets and a drum major tell me that the vic was a slut. They also said, quote, 'Heather has a huge ass,' end quote."

"What are their thoughts on her as a person?" He leaned against the table..

"Mostly involves her being a slut. Thing is, no one will say anything other than the sluttiness. Although I talked to her former best friend, Chantel Williams, and she said Heather used to be a great girl. She was just insecure and jealous."

"Williams or the vic?"

"The best friend said the vic, but I believe there was more than a little projection on Williams' part." I sighed. "Grissom, these kids are just talking regular high school crap. Sure, it's mean, but so far, there's no motive, anything. All the evidence we've picked up, my word! It could be anybody! A 150 plus member marching band. And we have no clue." I bit my lip, fighting to control my emotions.

"Tia, hey." Grissom knelt next to me. I turned my face away. "Hey. We are going to solve this. There has to be some underlying reason for every kid to have seen her the same way. These teenagers were good friends until the past few months. There is a reason. And we will find it." I nodded numbly, but I still wouldn't meet his eyes. "Tia." Grissom caught my chin in his hand and tilted it upward. I had no choice but to meet his stare. "We'll work this out. We will."

I was having a really hard time believing him. And an even worse time just being this near to Grissom, my boss, having his hand on my face. Someone cleared their throat in the doorway. Grissom let go and moved away quickly. We both looked to the door.

"Uh, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," Greg said. (Was it just me, or did he sound bitter?) "I just thought I'd let you guys know what Nick and I found."

"What is it, Greg?" Grissom said smoothly, not embarrassed in the least. I was! Greg dumped a file on the table and opened it. Wait a second. Grissom wasn't embarrassed? I forced myself to concentrate on Greg for the moment.

"Turns out that Heather and her parents had a lawsuit going against a fellow band member."

"Lawsuit?" I repeated.

"Yes" he replied, a tad impatient. "It was an assault suit. Seems a sophomore, Jay Darcy, tried to force himself on her in a practice room at the school this past June."

"He...what?" I sat down.

"The school already had a hearing on July 15th. Prior to that hearing, the high school administration was talking to various band members." The three of us looked up to see Nick striding into the room. "In doing so, at least three other girls came forward and said this Darcy kid tried the same thing with them. On band buses, the band locker room."

"Not only that, but Darcy has another lawsuit against him, this one from a freshman, Elena Lopez," Greg added.

"And mid-June would have been about the time Heather started seeing her friends drop," I recalled. "Jay Darcy..." I checked the band list. "Plays mellophone."

"Mellophone?" Nick asked.

"Marching version of a French horn," I answered absently. "I used to march mello back in high school. I've been well-educated." I thought some more. I leafed through a few papers, including a messy chart and the band list, and drained the last of my cherry Coke. "Jay Darcy was one of the vic's friends. Actually, the boyfriend of a friend. And also in Heather's own section, of which she was in charge."

"So?" Greg said.

"So I think we need to talk to a few of these students again. But first, the band directors."


	5. Chapter 5

A couple of days later, I studied the chart I had drawn up, with Greg's help. Nick was still tied up with the legal documents of the lawsuits, plus the information from the school's hearing. Grissom had been helping Catherine with her case some, as well as visiting me often for updates. Now, he sat at an evidence table which was full of papers and interviews. Nick and Greg perched nearby.

"This thing reads like incest, all of it pointing back to Heather Masterson," Nick commented.

I wrinkled my nose. "Ew. I so did not need that analogy." I turned my attention back to the board.

"Well, it turns out that Darcy wasn't just taking time off from band. He transferred schools," Nick informed us. I whirled around to face him.

"You mean to tell me he wasn't expelled?"

"The other girls withdrew their stories. They refused to testify against him."

"Even Lopez?" Grissom inquired.

"She's the exception. And she's not been seen as the pariah others thought Heather to be," I replied grimly. "But Elena has nothing in common with the rest of this group. Heather, on the other hand...Look, her best friend since grade school was Adam Nicholas, whom she also dated for awhile last year. Directly after him was Dave Miller, who was a sophomore at the time, now a junior. Again, he doesn't really fit into this group.

"Adam and Heather hung out with Jake Sanders and Mark MacMillan, the main quartet of best friends this past year. After Adam and Dave, she dated Mark, then Jake. According to her journal, she was still majorly hung up on Adam, though.

"Her best female friend was Chantel Williams since junior high, until the beginning of their junior year. Chantel's boyfriend is another group outsider, as is Chantel herself, for the most part. Chantel's new best friend, Sasha Rodriguez, is dating another ex of Heather's, Alan Adams. From what I've heard, Alan had quite the crush on our victim. Both were outsiders as well. Adam, Jake, Mark and the vic associated with Liana Monroe, a drum major this year, Lizzie Richie, Melissa Jenkins, and Kayla Marshall."

"Hold it." Grissom held up his hand. "You might as well be reading the minutes from last month's sorority meeting, Tia."

"I know, it's a bunch of BS, right? Like Nick said, though, kind of like incest in the happy family that is the band. But I am getting to the point. May I continue?" Grissom nodded wearily. "Thank you. As I was saying, Adam, Heather, Jake, Mark, Liana, Lizzie, Melissa, and Kayla were the close-knit group of friends. They're the ones we need to focus on."

"All that just to tell us we need to focus on certain kids?" Nick wondered.

"No. All that to bring out this point. Heather was involved with each and every one of the other girl's crushes and/or boyfriends. Always prior to when the other girls got the guys. In some cases, like with Lizzie and Adam or Liana and Mark, Heather got the guy while Lizzie and Liana never did."

"So, what? You're saying it's out and out pure jealousy? A catfight gone too far?" Greg sounded doubtful.

"No, Greg, I think I know where she's going with this." Grissom stood.

"Hopefully. I like Melissa Jenkins for the murder," I admitted. "Her closest friends kept getting bested by the band's self-proclaimed golden girl. She finds out her sophomore boyfriend still has a crush on Heather. The practice room ordeal happens; Melissa, Jay, and the rest of them accuse Heather of making it up to get attention, or to get back at Jay for dating Melissa. This is Melissa's first real relationship. She wants to hold onto it. And Heather is getting in the way. She's desperate.

"So she confronts Heather after band practice, knowing Heather stayed late to practice a solo. Everyone else, minus the directors, has gone home. They argue, chaos ensues, bam, Heather winds up dead on the floor. Luckily for Melissa, the room is so filthy, she slides Heather under a drum shelf, piles junk on top of her, and skedaddles. Problem solved."


	6. Chapter 6

"Okay, Adam." I sighed and sat across the table from the teen. "What exactly did you need to talk about?" The boy still stared at me. "Adam?"

"S-sorry," he stammered. "It's just...it's like talking to her again. Talking to Heather."

"Ah. I can...I've been told I look a lot like her. But I can get someone else in here, if you'd like..." I offered.

"No, it's okay. That's sort of why I want to talk to you. Because you do look like her," Adam finished softly. "I just...there's some things I need to say, to sort of...get off my chest."

"Adam, are you sure you don't want a lawyer here? You have that right." Adam? Was he going to confess? But he so didn't fit the profile. He didn't quite fit in anywhere in this whole scenario, at least, not in the murder scenario.

"No. I wish...I wish I had something to say that required a lawyer to be here. That would mean I'd have done something. It would be an ultimatum." Adam sighed. I gave him a confused look. "Look, you know the basic situation, right?" I nodded. "I've known, I mean, I knew Heather longer than any of my friends. So you think I would have been a better friend when she needed me. And I wanted to be there for her. But it was hard. I'm in charge of the band. A drum major. And I couldn't afford to let this split the band."

"So you stood up for Jay?"

"Not exactly. I just...stayed out of it."

"You stayed out of it? How so? From what I have heard and seen, you caused that girl one hell of a heartache."

"I know, okay, Ms. Quinn?" Another sigh. "I loved Heather. She was my first real love. And I know I was hers, even if she never came right out and said it. I didn't deserve her, though. I turned my back on her. And it was one of us. We killed her."

"Whom? Which one?"

"I don't know. And even if I did," Adam sighed, "I don't know if I would have the courage to tell you."

Not much else was said. It took all I had not to throttle the kid. Where at first I pitied Heather for having such horrible friends, I added Adam to the pity list. The kid had no clue about life. One day, he was going to wake up, graduated from high school, and find himself lost in the real world. But my gut told me he knew more than he was saying. It was why he was talking to me and not Grissom or Catherine or anyone else.

"It's sad that Heather got dragged down amidst your pettiness." The high school senior nodded. "You may go, Mr. Nicholas." He stood with me and I opened the door. I let him get a few feet down the hall before I spoke again. "Adam, be assured that I will get to the bottom of this. And if there's anything you're not telling me now, go ahead and say it, before it's too late." Adam paused, but didn't turn around. I prayed for forgiveness from Heather Masterson and fished out a copied page from her journal. I caught up to her former love.

"You're right, you know," I said."You didn't deserve her. Heather knew it all along. And she would have been just fine without you and your friends. She worried about living with this pain, this past. Perhaps she is the lucky one, after all." I strode down the hallway, leaving Adam standing alone with the sheet of paper.


	7. Chapter 7

I was getting burned out on the case. Heather Masterson had been dead for less than a week. Excluding the initial crime scene inspection and the autopsy, I had been involved in every element of her case. It was all I had thought about for the past five days. I'd talked on the phone with Heather's parents. I'd talked in person with various band members and the band directors. But after my conversation with Adam Nicholas, I couldn't help but be discouraged.

"Hello, Tia," Grissom greeted me.

I grunted in response. I'd taken a break from taxing my brain. Currently, I was stretched out on the couch in the break room. My face happened to be buried in the cushions at the moment, with a pillow securely over my head.

"I take it you've not gotten any further?" I gave a muffled "no". Grissom sat on the arm of the sofa. "Ah. So you're giving up?"

I sat up and glared at my boss.

"You know darn well that I don't give up," I retorted.

"A good thing, too, because I can be a little dense at times," Grissom replied quietly, not quite meeting my eyes.

"Sure, Grissom." I dismissed the remark, too drained to even begin analyzing it. I started going through my notes again. Maybe something would pop out at me. Still the same information. Same people, same sections, same instruments. Wait...instruments. I checked the autopsy report. Blunt instrument to the head. With Heather's mass of blonde hair, it had been hard to discern the exact type of weapon, other than it was forced blunt trauma.

"Clarinet," I said suddenly. Grissom and Catherine, who had just seated herself, jumped at my outburst.

"Say again?" Catherine requested.

"The wound - it was inflicted by a clarinet! And I'll bet anything that clarinet belongs to Jake Sanders, Liana Monroe, or Lizzie Richie." I checked my watch. It was just past six am. "Great. Band rehearsal starts in about an hour." I hastily gathered my stuff, shoving it into my bag. "So, Gris, it's up to you."

"What?" He and Catherine still watched me strangely.

"You, Greg, Nick, or Catherine. Who is going with me?"

"I'll go," Cath volunteered. "Lindsey stayed the night at a friend's, so it's not like she's expecting me." We looked to Grissom. He merely shrugged.

"Fine, we'll bring Nick along, too," I amended. "High school girls are more apt to talk to someone like him, anyway. The hot, young..." I trailed off at Grissom's not-so-amused look. "Though it's not like Cath and I can't handle ourselves."

"Come on, forget Nicky. It'll be just us girls. Besides, you're intimidating enough as is to those kids." I looked at Catherine questioningly. "You look just like their deceased classmate"

"Oh, right." I led the way out of the break room.

"Tia, Catherine, one of you call me, let me know what's going on? Please?" Grissom asked as he followed us into the hall.


	8. Chapter 8

The band was just congregating outside the band room as Catherine and I pulled up. I spotted a couple of the staff members talking with drum majors Adam Nicholas and Liana Monroe. The band directors were only now walking outside.

"Oh, look. Liana Monroe's back in town today. And Carter and Daniels are out here, too. Goody," I remarked as we exited the car. None of the staff looked especially pleased to see us. With the one exception of Caleb Carter, the assistant director.

"Look out, Miss Tia, but I think Mr. Carter has a little crush on you," Catherine teased. I shuddered.

"Please, Cath, he's barely 25."

"Ah, yes, so incredibly young."

"And taking into account the statement from the recently retired head director, Carter's more into the younger girls. Like, high schoolers."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, but I'll get into that later." We had reached the group of band higher-ups. "Good morning, everyone."

"Ms. Quinn, Ms. Willows," Daniels greeted us. "How nice to see you again. I take it you have good news." Catherine looked to me.

"Of course, sir." I groaned inwardly. The old days of band were coming back to me. "We just need to borrow your entire clarinet section."

"You need what?" the director repeated sharply.

"I'll take care of this, Ethan," Carter volunteered. "Chelsea, you stick around, too." He nodded at a pretty redhead. Daniels sighed and called the band to attention. He and the staff followed the students as they marched out to the practice field.

"So, how can we help you?" Chelsea asked. She seemed like a nice girl. Soft-spoken. "You need the clarinets?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Anyone that plays that instrument, we need it." Catherine responded.

"Any soprano saxes about?" I wondered. Carter shook his head. "Okay."

"May I inquire as to why you need this done?" Carter requested, stepping closer to me. I recoiled inside, wishing that we had brought Nick along.

"Part of the investigation and, yes, we do have a warrant," I replied.

"How'd you know I was going to ask that?"

"Pretty simple, Mr. Carter. Most people want to see the warrant. It goes with the territory. And considering losing your entire clarinet section will severely distort the sound of the band, albeit for the better, I would imagine you are quite against this."

"What brass instrument did you play?" he asked dryly.

"French horn. Marched mello for four years."

"You go to BOA?"

"A couple times, never made finals. Semi-finals, yes. Performing in the Dome and traveling to Indianapolis was always a highlight. Good way to meet a lot of people."

"Of course. What band? When did you graduate?"

"1994. Lafayette High School, New Orleans, Louisiana," I told him. Hadn't really talked about marching band for quite awhile. This was sort of fun. Maybe this Carter guy wasn't so bad...

Catherine cleared her throat.

"The, uh, warrant," she prompted.

"Oh, right." I grabbed it out of my pocket. "I know the kids just got out to the field, but call the clarinets back in, have them stand at attention without the instruments, sing their parts."

"You came from a Moron Tabernacle Choir as well?" Carter quipped. I grinned.

"Of course." I stopped grinning. "The clarinets, please? Now?"

Carter sighed and jogged out to the field. Chelsea called after him.

"Hey, don't forget to grab Liana, too!" Carter waved in answer. We could see him standing on the sidelines, talking with Daniels, Adam Nicholas, and Liana Monroe.

"Liana's playing clarinet in the show?" I asked. "Thought she was a drum major."

"She is, but she also has a solo. Liana and Heather have been staying after every night to practice their solos. Well, until last Tuesday." Chelsea trailed off and stared at the ground. "But Liana had to leave town for a few days. She just got back late last night."

"And you know this..."

"I'm dating her older brother, Jacob. He does visual for the band. Jake and I, Liana, and Megan, their younger sister, visited their grandparents."

"Ah. So, they left Wednesday morning?" Catherine asked. Chelsea nodded.

"Yeah, right after we dropped off Liana's clarinet to be cleaned. She said it was making her solo sound funky. I guess her parents picked it up on Friday, so she has it back now."

I thought fast. Why else would Liana need to have her instrument cleaned so fast? And it wasn't the body had been discovered before then. She was out of town, her instrument in the shop. Almost a good alibi. But about twelve hours too late.

"Does Caleb have his cell phone on him?" I asked. Chelsea nodded. I handed her my phone. "Dial the number, please." She did so and returned the phone to me. "Thanks. Hang on a minute, Cath, Chelsea." I walked a few steps away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carter flip open his cell.

"This is Carter."

"Mr. Carter, this is Tia Quinn. Change of plans. Keep your clarinet section. I only need three of them. Instruments and players."

"Okay...just tell me the names." He had walked away from the others as well.

"I need Liana Monroe, Lizzie Richie, and Jake Sanders. Thank you." I hung up, not giving him a chance to argue.


	9. Chapter 9

"Look, Mr. Carter, I've missed enough rehearsal as is," Liana protested. "I'm a drum major! I have a solo!"

"So refuse to go," Carter replied. "You're 18." Carter, Liana, Jake, and Lizzie walked up to Catherine, Chelsea, and I.

"It really wouldn't be in your best interest to refuse, Miss Monroe," I advised. Liana did a double-take. "But you don't even have to leave the land of the Jaguars to help us out."

"Who the hell are you?" she gasped.

""Tia Quinn, Las Vegas crime lab. This is Catherine Willows."

Liana's demeanor changed immediately.

"Hi, I'm Liana Monroe. I didn't mean to be rude. It's just...you look so much like Heather..." Liana's voice wavered and she trailed off. Catherine and I exchanged glances.

"We're going to need your clarinets and cases," Catherine told the high schoolers. "As well as any cleaning supplies, extra mouthpieces, pads, and reeds you may have."

"Everything?" Lizzie complained.

"Of course," Liana complied. "It's no problem at all. Lizzie and I each have two clarinets here, one for marching rehearsals, the other for shows and concert band. We'll get those as well." Liana went to her locker and gathered up her instruments. She returned to us while Jake and Lizzie finished up. "Here you go. I'm going back out to the field, Mr. Carter, okay?" Carter nodded. Liana took my hand for a second. "It's truly amazing how much you resemble Heather. And - and you seem to have her spirit, too."

She went back out to the parking lot, flanked by Lizzie and Jake. Liana had left wiping her eyes. Now she was laughing along with her friends. To me, it didn't seem the "remembering the good times" type of laughter.

"Cath, go ahead and finish up here," I told her, still staring after the trio. "I'll meet you at the car."

I dropped the instruments off at the SUV, locked it, then continued to the field. Kevin Rodriguez called out marching drills for basics. The band seemed almost done with that. Liana was just setting up her box for conducting on the thirty yard line.

"Your concern is touching, Liana, but you aren't fooling anyone," I said bluntly. The senior stopped what she was doing and stared at me.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Liana responded calmly. "I'm happy to help with the investigation."

"Come on, Liana, be straight with me. Heather was a huge rival."

"I'm a drum major, Miss Quinn. I have no rivals."

"Heather never wanted to be a DM, Liana. No desire. She was important enough without that; people listened to her anyway. But not you. No, Heather was a rival in other ways." I glanced at the main drum major podium on the fifty yard line, where Adam Nicholas talked with two of the staff members, Noah Hunter and Jordan Montgomery. Liana followed my gaze and glared at Jordan. "Seems you have a problem with any girl that gets close to Adam."

"Heather was a mistake for Adam. All wrong!" Liana snapped.

"Yeah, well, that's where you're wrong. See, because that wasn't your call. And you may think that you've got everyone eating out of the palm of your hand. Because, well, Heather thought that, right? And look how she ended up." I stared Liana down. "You can't fool me and you sure as hell never fooled Heather. She saw you for what you are: a jealous little -"

"Shut up," Liana said quietly.

"A jealous little wannabe -"

"I said, shut up!" Liana tried again.

"- that never thinks of anyone but herself!" I continued. "Jealous because someone else always has what you want. Jealous because even when you get what you want, someone else always has something, or someone, better. And that someone was Heather Masterson. You could never measure up to her in Adam's eyes and you knew it."

"Shut up, you bitch!" Liana shouted, lunging at me. She slapped me hard across the face, scratched me, pulled a chunk of my hair out with her other hand.

By now, the entire band had frozen. The students stared openly at our exchange. Adam, Kevin, Jordan, Noah, Daniels, and the other staff members hauled butt toward Liana and I. Jordan, Kevin, and Jacob, Liana's older brother, pulled the incensed drum major off me. Catherine, Chelsea Logan, and Caleb Carter ran up then.

"Tia! Are you all right?" Catherine asked, worried. I put my hand up to the side of my face, pulled it away, and blood covered my fingers.

"Oh, God, Liana!" Chelsea cried. "You assaulted a police officer!"

I took the tissue Catherine offered me and wiped my face. Liana had given me just the reaction I'd wanted, as well as a bloody nose and cheek and a bruised face. And a bald spot. I rubbed my scalp. Ouch.

"As if we don't have enough lawsuits in this band," Jacob muttered darkly.

"Don't worry, Mr. Monroe. I'm not technically a cop," I reassured Jacob and Chelsea. But I'd let them sweat about a civil lawsuit and whether or not I'd still file charges.

"I think you'd better leave now," Mr. Daniels said quietly. "Caleb, walk these ladies to their car."

"That's not necessary, really," Catherine replied quickly. "Thank you for your help today. We'll be in touch. Come on, Tia." She put her arm around my shoulders and led me to the car.


	10. Chapter 10

Catherine dropped me off at my apartment after making me promise to immediately clean my wounds and get some rest before next shift. I cleaned my face and actually managed to get some sleep. That evening, I overslept and hurried to get ready. My cell rang on my way out the door. I figured it was Grissom or Catherine.

"I'm on my way, I swear," I answered.

"Ms. Quinn? This is Caleb Carter."

"Oh, hi. Sorry. How can I help you, Mr. Carter?"

"Actually, I wanted to apologize for this morning. I can't help but feel responsible. Liana is one of my students, after all." Carter sounded sincere.

"Mr. Carter, really, it isn't your fault."

"Call me Caleb, please. I still feel that it shouldn't have happened." He paused. "I thought perhaps I could take you out for dinner one evening, as a way of apology."

I froze, thankful I was at a stoplight. Unfortunately, it turned green then. I didn't move until the car behind me honked. I slammed on the accelerator through the light as it flashed to yellow.

"Caleb, Mr. Carter, I appreciate your offer. I do. And I wish I could accept, but I can't. Not while the case is still open."

"Oh, right, of course, Ms. Quinn." I heard the clamor of the band in the background. I parked the car at CSI and walked inside the building. "Well, feel free to call me if you need anything. From the band, for the investigation."

I closed my cell phone and stared at it. Odd conversation.

"Wow, the high school girl really did a number on you, Tia?" Nick commented as I stepped into the lounge.

"Some high school chick did that?" Warrick asked. He sounded almost impressed, but amazingly enough, still concerned. He and Nick inspected my face.

"Do you mind?" I complained, staring up at them. I shoved past them.

"Tia, may I speak with you for a moment?" I turned to face Grissom. His eyes narrowed, but his face softened as he took in my injuries. I followed him into the hall outside the lounge. "Are you all right?"

"It's no big, Grissom. It's just a few scratches and bruises. It'll be gone by tomorrow."

"See, Gil?" Catherine said, walking up. "I told you she's fine." Grissom didn't look convinced.

"I knew Nick or I should have gone with you," he muttered. Grissom turned on Catherine. "And you! Catherine, you were at the scene! You should have been there."

Catherine stared at Grissom, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Nick, Warrick, and Greg watched from the doorway of the lounge.

"Grissom," Catherine began. I stepped between them.

"Grissom, don't even blame Catherine!" I broke in. "Liana Monroe's a spoiled, high-strung, immature bitch. I pushed her buttons and she snapped. There wasn't anything anyone could have done. Besides, it's not like I have these hugely terrible injuries. Can we please just forget about it?" Catherine herded Greg, Warrick, and Nick away while I pleaded with Grissom.

"One of my CSIs was assaulted today, Tia. You! I'm not just going to forget about it. I can't believe that you, of all people, are going to let this slide. It's not like you!"

"Yeah, well, getting all up in arms isn't exactly like you, either, Gris. What's really up?" I studied him.

"I just think you need to file charges, Tia," Grissom replied. "Talk to Brass."

"Thanks for the advice, boss, really. But I'm not going to file charges. There's no need. If I'd kept my mouth shut, this wouldn't have happened."

"You know that for a fact?"

"Yes. I do." I spied Greg down the hallway. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go check on my clarinets." I stepped around Grissom and stalked away.

"Tia, wait," Grissom requested. I stopped but didn't turn around. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you. You're getting too involved in this case."

I sighed and looked back at him.

"I'll be fine, Grissom. I can handle this. I survived high school band once, remember? This is nothing I haven't done before." I gave a small laugh. "Besides, you're looking at the nastiest, meanest girl in marching band history. I take crap from no one. Especially bratty little clarinetists."


End file.
